


the 5 steps to becoming yourself

by 20ProudSlytherin05



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Genderqueer, anxiety being anxious who could have guessed, but also fluff, everyone has a different sexuality too, they/them pronouns for virgil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 07:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15067880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/20ProudSlytherin05/pseuds/20ProudSlytherin05
Summary: Just like all other things, the reason they didn’t want to share their name was that they didn’t like it. It didn’t fit them. Unlike some “non-binary pals,” as Thomas dubs them, Virgil didn’t fall more on the masculine side. Or on the feminine side, honestly. They were just kind of a sorry middle ground.So, yeah, until they even knew any better about their gender, they were going to stay quiet about it. After all, none of the other sides would ever bother to try to figure it out.





	the 5 steps to becoming yourself

Virgil loved the other sides so much. And maybe that’s why they didn’t tell them things; not because they didn’t trust them, but because they didn’t want to worry them, didn’t want them to reject them and break their fragile sense of belonging.

So they kept things inside. Things like pronouns. Things like the bile that rose in their throat whenever someone called them “Virgil,” or whenever someone misgendered them.

Just like all other things, the reason they didn’t want to share their name was that they didn’t like it. It didn’t fit them. Unlike some “non-binary pals,” as Thomas dubs them, Virgil didn’t fall more on the masculine side. Or on the feminine side, honestly. They were just kind of a sorry middle ground, the sort of ground that loved makeup and crop tops but hated skirts and dresses. They hated the name “Virgil” but also despised the name “Virginia.”

So, yeah, until they even knew any better about their gender, they were going to stay quiet about it. After all, none of the other sides would ever bother to try to figure it out.

 

Virgil needed a new name. That was step number one. To what, exactly, they weren’t sure yet. They referred to themself as “Virgil” simply because it was easy, not because it was comfortable. They made an off-handed joke (on purpose) to Patton saying that there were no other male names that start with “V.” Patton immediately rushed to assure them that there was plenty and that it wasn’t that unusual. Virgil had done their customary eyebrow raise and told Patton to find them some.

So now Patton was looking for V names, and Virgil could look for them too without it being odd. They could also ask the other sides.

But none of the names Patton found fit. Virgil faked a smile -- something they were good at -- and shrugged. “Guess I was wrong,” they had said and left it at that while continuing to actively search. Van? Vivian? Valentine?

Step one failed.

 

Step two was actually finding their gender identity. Sure, they preferred they, them and their as pronouns. Any other normal person, hell, any of the other sides would just  _ say _ that. But Virgil wanted to narrow it down and present all the facts with backup links to articles in case any of the other sides questioned it.

They wouldn’t, Virgil knew this, but still. They were Anxiety for a reason, and not because they constantly pestered Thomas.

There were over five different flags that Virgil found, and they were feeling so overwhelmed.

 

Genderqueer (noun): a person who does not subscribe to conventional gender distinctions but identifies with neither, both, or a combination of male and female genders. The flag is three equal sized blocks of purple, green, and white.

Non-binary (adjective):  denoting or relating to a gender or sexual identity that is not defined in terms of traditional binary oppositions such as male and female or homosexual and heterosexual. The flag is four stripes of yellow, white, purple, and black.

Transgender (adjective): denoting or relating to a person whose sense of personal identity and gender does not correspond with their birth sex. The flag is a mirror, with a stripe of white in the center, and then two pinks, and two blues.

Genderfluid (adjective): denoting or relating to a person who does not identify themselves as having a fixed gender. The flag is stripes of pink, white, purple, black, and blue.

Nonbinary guy: No solid definition. Used for a non-binary person who feels more masculine than feminine, but still not a boy. The flag is the same for demiboy, but with green instead of blue stripes.

 

Did they fit? Virgil had no fucking clue, and it was three in the morning, and Patton would find them asleep on the sofa, laptop open but off and head leaning against their chest. Not a great start on this journey.

Step two double failed.

 

Step three, clothes. Virgil had already changed up their look with the rest of the sides to include purple and generally a pleasant update, in their humble opinion. However, it only fit sometimes, as their gender almost fluctuated. Some days they felt perfectly fine in it; other days they almost felt claustrophobic in it.

The word was dysphoria, Virgil quickly found out.

Virgil had no clue how to do makeup. They put eyeshadow under their eyes to block out the super dark circles from staying up so late, but that was it. After watching a few makeup tutorials, they gained a basic understanding of how eyeshadow, lipstick, and mascara was supposed to function.

All of it was so noticeable, though, and they hated it.  _ What if I need a nice subtle look? _ Virgil would think to themself, slightly bitter.

Their solution was glitter. A thin layer of shimmery black eyeshadow on the actual lid of the eye and Virgil learned to apply the eyeshadow beneath just as cleanly, making for a whole nicer look. Black and silver glitter Virgil applied their cheeks, across the bone and down the jaw, and Virgil loved it.

Roman was the first one to notice, unfortunately.

 

“Is that--” Roman had said, mouth open and eyes wide. “Is that a makeup improvement I sense? No, no, don’t duck your head, let me see that you little glitter disaster. Nay, not disaster. You look like someone painted the stars onto your cheeks. Glimmering--”

“Are you reciting more poetry?” Patton had asked, descending down from the stairs. All Virgil wanted to do was to descend right out of the world, but that was impossible right now, seeing as Roman still had a firm grip on them.

“Look what the cat dragged in, a pleasant thing for once,” Roman said, the last part of his sentence stuck on quickly. “He’s got glitter all over his face, but it looks good and not like he did it blindfolded. It’s an upgrade, don’t give me that look, Prince Sulks-A-Lot. I’m giving you compliments here.”

They  _ were _ compliments. But at the same time, Roman was misgendering them, over and over. It wasn’t Roman’s fault at  _ all _ , and Virgil was being irrational.

Virgil managed to escape just as Logan was entering the kitchen, ignoring the surprised look on the logical side’s face as he raced past, back to their room, to take all this stupid makeup off. That’s what it was; stupid, and Roman had blatantly pointed it out. Way to go, Virgil.

Step three was a failure.

 

The fourth step came as a bit of a surprise to Virgil. It came in the form of a polite tap on their door frame. When Virgil glanced up, he was met with Logan. They quickly shut their computer and stood. “Logan, what are you doing in my room?”

“I’m not in your room,” Logan replied. “Simply standing outside it, in a hope to catch your attention. I’m only here for one thing, so then I’ll be on my way.”

“What is it you wanted to ask?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow. Today was a good day, and they sincerely hoped whatever Logan asked wouldn’t be too bad.

“I would like to know what is troubling you as of late,” Logan asked, and Virgil’s bubble popped. “And considering your actions, such as the makeup and copious amounts of unisex names that start with ‘V’ that appear to be crowding our group computer search history.”

Virgil stood. “I’m not sure what you’re implying--”

“I’m not implying. I haven’t implied a thing. I was asking you, but maybe I should be asking different questions if you’re going to get so defensive.” Logan glanced over his shoulder, took a step in, and shut the door. “Questions like if I opened your computer and checked your search history, would I find a jumble of memes and questionable sites at three in the morning, or would I find in-depth questions probably about gender and such?”

Virgil clenched their hands into fists, shaking a bit. Not from anger; from fear, which was worse. They forced their voice to be calm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Logan.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you?” He neatly stepped over and around the piles of things lying all over the floor, none of them important, but none of them things Virgil wanted to get rid of. By the time Virgil had seen where Logan was heading, it was too late.

The doors to Virgil’s wardrobe were thrown open, and they flinched. “Logan,” Virgil mumbled, the strength to fight gone as the man in question started picking through the clothes Virgil had strung up.

“Crop tops,” Logan said, a note of distaste in his voice. “Things detrimental to the actual creation of clothes -- warmth -- and instead used for fashion and style. Likely to be outdated in four years. Make that two. Where did you get the dress from, Virgil? I’ve never seen you wearing it. Quite stylish, though I would like to know where you got it from before I ask too many more questions.”

“Roman’s theater department,” Virgil mumbled, then repeated it, louder, when Logan let out a, “Hmm?” in response.

“Sensible. A box of jewelry-- what do you have in here? Makeup. Is that where you got all your glitter from?” Logan kept talking as he made his way through Virgil’s closet. Virgil, on the other hand, was not doing so well. Their breathing was sped up, and they had curled into a ball on their bed.

“Please stop,” Virgil said, quietly. Then, louder, “Please stop. Please-- Logan, Logic,  **_stop_ ** !”

They barely noticed their voice layering over like it did when they got over-panicked or stressed. Silence, and then Virgil felt the bed dip and heard the springs creak. A gentle hand on their shoulder caused him to bring their head up.

“Anxiety,” Logan said softly. “Tell me what’s wrong. I am not here to judge, simply to find out what is bugging you.”

Anxiety. Not Virgil. Virgil gazed into Logan’s eyes for a moment. An odd thing about the sides -- they all have different eye colors. Virgil’s were deep violet; Logan’s were blue; Patton’s were gray; Roman’s were mahogany; Thomas’s were brown. They were all different, and yet they were all part of the same person.

And maybe,  _ maybe _ , it was that small, insignificant fact that caused Virgil to spill.

“I’m not a boy,” they rushed out. “Well… maybe I’m a demiboy? I haven’t really figured it out yet. I’m definitely genderqueer, transgender, and… either non-binary guy or demiboy, I don’t know.  _ I don’t know _ , Logan, that’s why I haven’t -- that’s why… ugh!” They buried their head in their hands. “I guess I was just anxious,” they smiled bitterly, “about telling you guys. It’s not like I don’t trust you. It’s just…  _ fuck _ !”

“Would it help,” Logan said slowly, prompting Virgil to look up. “If I called you by a different name? Or would you prefer to go by your current one?”

“I don’t know,” Virgil replied. “That seems to be my answer for everything. But… Virgil doesn’t fit, no, but neither does anything else. Maybe I’m destined to be odd.”

“Falsehood. I’ll refer to you as Vee. Is that fine?” Logan asked, not skipping a beat.

Virgil --  _ Vee _ \-- smiled. “Yeah-- yeah. That works. I like that. Thank you, Logan. I’m honestly just glad you’re not yelling at me.”

“Why would I yell at you?” Logan asked, clearly pissed. “Joan and Talyn, both very dear friends to Thomas, do not identify as male or female and use they/them pronouns. I do not ever misgender them, or bring them down, or call them strange. Gender is not meant to be confined but instead is a spectrum. You may fall somewhere on the spectrum that doesn’t quite have a label, and that is okay. Many people spend years figuring these sorts of things out, and I’m not pushing you to give me labels or words at this second. I simply wish to help you.”

“B-But,” Vee stuttered out, feeling like an idiot. “Doesn’t-- isn’t it weird that Thomas is a boy, and I’m not?”

“We all have different eye colors,” Logan said. “We all have different sexualities -- if my hypothesis is correct -- and gender isn’t too far of a stretch. We all have separate disorders, for example. You have anxiety, and if I’m correct, Patton has depression. We all fit into separate nonsensical areas of personality and traits--”

“Hogwarts houses.”

“Hogwarts houses,” Logan allowed, smiling a tiny bit. “Besides, who is to say the others aren’t keeping something from you, Vee?”

Step four was a friend. Step four was someone to help them, something Vee hadn’t ever considered. And with a specific person to confide in, Vee had achieved a few things: A new name, a sense of solidity in they/them pronouns, and helped a bit with step five.

 

Because what else would step five be beside telling the rest of the sides? Vee decided that they were at least going to tell Logan before telling anyone else. That made the most sense, at least.

Vee, mirroring Logan, decided to just knock on Logan’s doorframe when they approached him. Logan’s room was nice. The ceiling was stars, except they mirrored the night sky, always. Every book Thomas had ever read was on Logan’s shelves, along with bins labeled “Math,” “Language,” “Science,” “History,” “Spanish,” and “Other.” There, all of Thomas’s knowledge of things was kept, even trivial little fun facts Thomas had quickly forgotten. Logan memorized all of it. Stuff like Rubik’s cubes and hourglasses covered Logan’s desk, along with notebooks, pads of paper, and a computer.

Right now, Logan was furiously writing in one of his notebooks. When Vee knocked, Logan looked up, surprised, his hand halting abruptly. “Oh, hello, Vir-- Vee. What can I do for you?”

“I-- uh.” Vee fell silent for a few seconds. “Thomas was planning on filming a video today, correct?” When Logan nodded, Vee continued. “I was wondering if I could, like, tell everyone today, while we’re all together.”

“Are you asking my permission?” Logan said, arching an eyebrow. “Of course you  _ can _ . It may, however, quell your anxiety if you told the other sides first, before approaching Thomas. You can still do a group meeting with the other sides if you wish--”

“No,” Vee said firmly. “I’m going to do it all at once. It makes it easier.”

Logan shrugged. “If you wish. It’s your decision. All I can do is guide you; in the end, it’s up to you whether you want to tell everyone or not. You don’t even have to do it today, though it’s advisable. If you hesitate longer, you might not ever do it.”

“Yeah. Um…” Vee hesitated a moment longer, flushing a bit. “Could you help me do makeup? I don’t really like dresses, but minimal makeup makes me feel more comfortable.”

Logan looked super uncomfortable. “It’s not really my forte, Vee. It’s Roman’s. But if you really want this, I suppose I could offer  _ some _ assistance.”

 

When Vee felt the familiar tug, called in by Thomas, they sat up. They had been hunched over on their bed, listening to music for a while. After Logan and them had done the best with Vee’s makeup (purple eyeshadow, dark purple below the eyes, eyeliner, foundation, purple lipstick, eyebrows), Vee had assumed that position and not moved for the next... two hours, apparently.

Vee closed their eyes and appeared with a bang. All the other sides were already there, and Roman and Patton were arguing over something. Thomas immediately glanced up, and his eyes widened. Vee tensed.

Roman also looked up, probably equipped with some clever nickname, just to have it die in his throat. “Holy flying cows,  _ that’s _ a look.”

“Flying cows?” Vee asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I had a better one,” Roman protested. “It was brutally slaughtered on the way to your eyeliner sharp enough to stab it and watch it bleed out. That’s-- that’s a good thing, I swear! Thomas, do you agree with my statement?”

“It’s… interesting,” Thomas said delicately, and Vee’s heart sank. “Is there any particular reason for this ‘look,’ Virgil?”

“Yeah. Um…” Vee glanced at Logan, who nodded. “I thought it would be best to just tell all of you, at once. Like my name. Except…” There was no easy way to broach this, no easy transition. It was a band-aid; they just needed to say it, rip it off. “I’m Vee now. Either just the letter or ‘V-E-E,’ it doesn’t matter.”

“Did you not like your old name?” Patton asked. “Or did you not trust us enough, kiddo?”

“No, it’s not that,” Vee said, frustrated now. Not at them, though. “I’m-- I’m genderqueer. Non-binary, possibly, though demiboy is still open, they/them pronouns, and--”

“Wait,” Thomas said. “You guys can have different genders than I do?” Maybe sensing Vee’s dropping mood, he hurried to add something on. “I accept you, Vir-- Vee. I’ll do my best to not misgender you. Honestly, why didn’t you just tell me sooner? But that brings up some important questions, doesn’t it?”

“Well,” Logan said softly, unusual for him. “As far as I know, our sexualities vary, too. You’re homoromantic and homosexual. The rest of us might not be the same way. I, for example--” Logan snapped his fingers, and his tie changed. “Am aromantic and asexual.”

His tie was the ace flag, the black-gray-white-purple, and a Rubik's cube was the aro flag in the middle, with a black outline and three sides visible, green yellow and gray. It was a much brighter tie than what he usually wears, and it was clear why Logan would be nervous.

Vee loved it, and they grinned. “I don’t have anything to wear, yet,” they admitted. “Seeing as I’m not entirely sure I know what I am yet.”

“And that’s perfectly fine,” Thomas said. “I spent a while figuring myself out, and it makes sense that you would too. There’s no rush.”

“What he said, kiddo,” Patton smiled. “You could’ve told us sooner, though! I’ve been misgendering you for a while, and I feel really bad. But I’m panromantic and demisexual. If I knew we were going to go all dress-up, though, I would have prepared something, Logan. Now you’re going to stand out, wait--” Patton had a pink, blue, and yellow cardigan, and replaced the cat jacket. “Don’t worry, Logan, I’ll put the other one on later, not right  _ meow _ . That was bad, I’m sorry. Not my best.”

“And I’m bisexual,” Roman declared. “I speak the languages of love. And I have this cool pin, look!” It was a little Gryffindor lion, colored with blue, purple, and pink. “Mister-- master! Master of-- oh, I can really call you Edgelord now.” Silence. “You know, because of your… your eyeliner? Okay, maybe not.”

“Well,” Thomas said after a bit. “This was interesting. Maybe we should film on a  _ different _ day, though. Seems like a lot’s been going on today. I’m glad you told us, Vee.”

Vee smiled, a bit bashfully, before sinking out with the rest of the sides.

 

The while where Vee had to figure themself out by themself was difficult. But with four other people backing you up, it’s quite easy. Vee loved them all so much, and they really felt like part of this family now. Well, this fam-I-L-Y.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahh I wrote this in like 2 or 3 days. Apologies for not posting recently, I just haven't felt that inspired. I am not genderqueer, I am cis (though certainly not straight) so apologies if I messed anything up too badly.


End file.
